


Blues, Greens, and Browns

by IAmTheMimsee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Flat - Freeform, M/M, PTSD, Sherlock's Violin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:29:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheMimsee/pseuds/IAmTheMimsee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a nightmare that triggers his PTSD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blues, Greens, and Browns

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. I'm getting the feel for what I like to write, so please be kind! Constructive criticism is always appreciated when delivered with candy.

There’s blood everywhere, clogging his eyesight. He wipes it away only to reveal a comrade. His body is contorted on the tall, dead grass, but he could see his slender chest shakily rising. John throws his gun over his shoulder, trusting the strap with hold it against him. He digs into his satchel for some gauze; that should help stop some bleeding. He opens the man’s jacket to see where the wound is. The shirt is pressed tightly against the bloody abdomen. John cuts the shirt off his comrade to stop the bleeding. Just when he cuts an efficient amount of gauze, the breathing stops. John needs to record it. He reaches for the dog tags, “Holmes, Sherlock.”  
  
He jolts up and throws the wet covers off of him. His blonde hair is sticking to his cheeks while he gasps for breath. He looks at the clock, 2:52, again. His heart is pounding so loudly that he can’t hear the transit that runs at this hour. _Just a nightmare, John._ He wipes his face while biting on his lower lip to stop the quivering. _He might hear you, dammit._ John mentally counts down from 20, as per his therapist. He closes his eyes to push out what water was waiting by the lashes.  
  
When he opens them, he sees light in the flat. With his hands shaking, he pushes himself out of the bed. _Leaving the bloody lights on. He’s going to be passed out on the sofa the second I step out there._ As he stands, he can feel his sweat fall from his shoulders. He reaches and grabs the light jumper from the cherry wood chair that sits next to the nightstand. He slides it on as he takes a deep, shaky breath. He steps out of his room and into the light.  
  
Sherlock is sitting there, awake. _Still?_ He gracefully looks towards John and raises one eyebrow. In that moment, John realises his boxers are sweaty and sticking to his thighs, and then some. Sherlock smiles, “Good morning.” John sees the violin in Sherlock’s hand and the bow in the other, pressing into his tight thigh. The air is still and tense as Sherlock looks towards the smiley face on the decoupage wall.  
  
“Yes, good morning.” John breathes. He looks at the coffee table and see a tray with two cups and the kettle, steaming. “Is that-?”  
  
“Every night at 2:30, your nightmares reach their climax. Hot beverages are something to be shared in times like these and we all know coffee is a bit much if you ever want to go back to sleep. I make tea. Chamomile. No sugar. I plugged in the warm blanket about 10 minutes ago.” He pressed the body of the violin into his long neck and began to play John’s favorite.  
  
 _Too good._ He sat down and grabbed a cup of the chamomile and poured a touch of milk in. He sat the cup back on the table and wrapped the blanket around himself. He reached for his cup and pressed it against his lips. Just the right temperature. John closed his eyes and inhaled the music, the tea, Sherlock’s scent. _This couldn’t be any better._  
  
The music stopped and John opened his eyes to see Sherlock’s breathtaking eyes. The blues dancing with the greens passing the browns, the lock of black curls that flew past them. Then they were gone and a new pleasure pressed against his lips. “It just did.” Sherlock breathed against John’s slightly pursed lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my first one, so don't be too harsh. Ok thanks bye.


End file.
